


Dream of Jacob

by Pants (Smarty_Pants)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, DJL The Room Heats Up Prompt, DJL UC&P Prompt, M/M, Pre-Threesome, night at stevie's
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22920640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smarty_Pants/pseuds/Pants
Summary: What if Patrick looked across the room and his eyes met a tall sexy stranger's? And the temperature of the room started to heat up? A love story which is just a bit canon divergent.
Relationships: Jake/David Rose (Schitt's Creek), Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Patrick Brewer/Jake, Patrick Brewer/Jake/David Rose
Comments: 31
Kudos: 66
Collections: The Room Heats Up





	1. My Thoughts Are All Tangled Up

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so. The whole DJL The Room Heats Up prompt thing was supposed to be done back in October but hey. It's me!
> 
> Daniel Levy and Noah Reid as David and Patrick as always are a great inspiration. Since I already wrote a fic called Wrestling with Angels months ago, this one pays homage to the same great song by Noah. With a twist.
> 
> This fic should earn its rating in an upcoming chapter with another retelling of the Night at Stevie's. Stay with me. The boys always find each other in my world.

They’re staring at each other from across the room. Slowly, the temperature of the room heats up.

Patrick Stuart Brewer, who never does this, is doing this.

_Is he doing this?_

Yes, yes he is. He’s in a new town. He’s in a bar. He’s in a whole new frame of mind. And hell yes and godfuckingdamnitall, _he is doing this_.

Unlike those other times, Patrick does not break eye contact with the sexy stranger. Unlike all those other times, he does not pretend to find his ragged cuticles or the liquor bottles lined up behind the bar extremely interesting. Unlike those so many, too many, other times before, he doesn’t leave the bar after two beers and head home with his tail between his legs to snuggle up to his long-suffering fiancée, hold tight to her petite body, whisper I-love-you-babe into her soft red hair and imagine _something else_.

Instead he takes a long swig from his beer bottle and straight-up stares at this man— _it’s a man, glorious fucking wonder of wonders, a hot sexy man_ —who absolutely looks back, stares at Patrick, smiles what looks to be a mostly sweet and slightly predatory smile. He’s tall, he’s lean, he moves like a cat as he glides across the room towards Patrick, as if he might have just moments ago finished fucking someone’s brains out and now he’s looking for the next person—another guy, even a girl maybe, or maybe both—to have some fun with. And that person could be Patrick.

 _Is_ Patrick.

Patrick is in Schitt’s Creek, wherever that is—he still hasn’t exactly located it on the map—but he’s here. Patrick is newly single and he wishes the best to Rachel but he can’t help but be happy for the 300 miles currently separating them. And he’d be fooling himself if he said he hadn’t been wanting to do this all those many times before.

Uh oh. The man. The guy. He’s here, next to Patrick and he’s quite tall really and sexy, with a lush head of hair Patrick can imagine running his fingers through, gripping, pulling lightly, owning him. God. This man. Masculine but also pretty— _is that a thing?_ —with subtle facial hair that Patrick can imagine must scratch and tickle when he kisses you. When he rubs his face in intimate places. When he—

“Hi,” the guy says softly on an exhale. Patrick feels the breath leaving the man’s body as sure as if it were expended from his own lungs. The eye contact breaks only so he can look Patrick up and down appreciatively—and then he locks eyes with Patrick again.

“Hey,” Patrick says, trying to keep his voice steady. He can feel the man’s eyes rake over his form and he is suddenly very glad for the thrice-weekly crossfit workouts that have helped define his biceps and thighs. But he’s feeling less sure about these particular jeans. Rachel seemed to think they were cute but _does this guy?_ Patrick never thought about his clothes before but now that he’s out—and that’s what this all is about after all, he’s out now, he’s admitted he’s gay, and he can make eye contact with whatever cute guy he sees, he can take him home, he can kiss him if he wants and do more if he wants and umm—anyway now that he’s out, maybe he has to think about his clothes, and buy new jeans. Maybe he should grow his curls out longer . . . would this guy like that? Patrick can feel his anxiety start to creep up as he realizes that there is no manual for this situation and very likely no one right way to do it. But maybe there are a bunch of wrong ways.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” sexy guy says—almost purrs—seeming again awfully feline to Patrick. “But I definitely noticed you tonight.”

“Oh?” Patrick squeaks out.

_Smooth, Brewer, very smooth._

“Yeah, so I’m a pretty open-minded guy and I was wondering if you ever wanted to get together. . . really you could just let me know and I’d be more than okay with that. So much more than okay. . .” As his voice trails off, he runs his hand along and up Patrick’s forearm and squeezes his bicep lightly but firmly.

“Ah,” Patrick says, failing to get out more than the one syllable.

“So, that’s pretty much all, yeah. And hey—it’s nice to meet you man. What’s your name?”

“Patrick. I’m— uh— It’s Patrick.”

“Well, hello there. _Patrick_ ,” he says, his voice dripping with dark intent. “I’m Jake.”


	2. Might Be the Blessing I’ve Been Asking For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick thinks more about Jake. He meets someone who changes things. We haven't gotten to Stevie's yet. We also aren't necessarily going to be done with Jake even when it seems like we are.

The day Patrick meets David Rose it’s like someone finally turns on the light in his life and for the first time he understands just how much he’s been fumbling around in the dark.

It happens at Ray’s, of course, on what seems like just a regular workday in his strange new job in this odd little town with the semi-offensive name. It’s been about two weeks since he met Jake at the Wobbly Elm on the outskirts of the same weird town where he now officially lives.

_ Jake.  _ That night at the bar is a memory that pokes at Patrick for days, rubbing up against the edges of his mind when he’s supposed to be working, or focused on his workout, or in those tortured moments before he falls asleep each night. In the centerfold of his wallet he places the wooden business card the man handed him with his contact information engraved on its thin surface.

_ \--------------------------------------- _

_ Jacob “Jake” Lagnos _

_ when you need it crafted by hand _

_ 468-9663 (GOTWOOD) _

_ \---------------------------------------- _

Now,  _ that  _ is a business card you notice when a hot guy presses it into your hand and then wanders away into the night.

With the card now taking up a little space in his wallet, every time Patrick goes to pay for anything, it bumps against his fingers reminding him how a hot guy walked over to him in a sketchy bar, got into his personal space, and Patrick didn’t run away. He let himself be looked over that night in the bar, and he had looked right back. Yes, okay, he wasn’t exactly able to speak in multiple syllables. And he could maybe have tried to kiss Jake that night . . . or done even more. . .

Ahh, but still. He has a name and number and a tangible promise of a good time if he wants it.  _ Not bad, Brewer. _

Patrick finds that he likes touching the card, rubbing the sides, thinking of the sexy bar guy, feeling the smooth-but-a little rough edges against his fingers. For the first couple nights, when he’s alone in bed in his rented room at Ray’s, he considers calling Jake or even just going back to the Wobbly Elm to see if he might run into him. Patrick is new in a small town where he knows exactly one person, his effusive landlord and boss. There’s really not much to do but play guitar, dodge Rachel’s texts and reflect on (but try not to think too hard about) what brought him to Schitt’s Creek in the first place. 

Jacob Lagnos is not the first man who has ever caught his eye, but he’s the first he let approach him like that. Patrick thinks about the other man’s body, his face, his voice, so many things he thinks he could like. Jake’s long legs and the obvious height difference between the two men. Hot. His soft flannel shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal a sharp collarbone and scattering of soft-looking chest hair. Hot. The pink curve of his lower lip noticeable over his neatly trimmed beard. Hot. His soft smile and shining blue eyes focused intently on Patrick. Very very hot.

Patrick is the stockier and more compact of the two—and he can imagine how it would feel to lay his own solid sturdy body on top of the other man’s lean form, spreading his hands over Jake’s sinewy arms and muscular chest and holding him in place where he wanted him to be. How he might like to press his pelvis hard against Jake’s angular hipbones, for the first time feeling another man’s cock come alive against his own. How he’d like to bite into that neck, run his tongue along the edge of his sideburns, below his ear. How he could kiss him, open his mouth to him, taste his breath.

Patrick does not call Jake. He tells himself that he can do it, that he will do it. He’s ended things with Rachel for the last time—even if it’s not clear she believes it 100%. He is out.  _ He is gay and he is out and he is single. _ It feels so good, so real to finally embrace this fundamental fact about himself and decide to live out his truth. There is nothing holding him back from having a good time with this guy, with Jake, someone who clearly exudes the concept of  _ a good time. _

He can absolutely call Jake. He wants to do it. He is really going to do it.

He doesn’t do it. 

Something quiet and small whispers to him,  _ wait. _ Even though Patrick has been waiting and waiting and waiting for what feels like forever for something to make him feel right, Patrick waits a little longer.

__

Then, around midnight on a Thursday, 12 days after meeting Jake, Patrick is playing the saddest songs he knows on the guitar, nursing his way through half a bottle of whiskey, and finding himself more and more adrift. He thinks about calling Rachel just to hear a friendly voice.

__

Finally, filled with too many feelings he isn’t yet ready to name, he flips open his laptop and jacks off to a six-minute CockyBoys video and comes hard all over the flowered sheets of his rented bed. After he cleans up, he promises himself he will call the furniture maker in the morning. If nothing else, Patrick wants—he needs—to know what it would feel like to kiss Jake, to have done that. At least that, with another guy. 

__

He needs his new life to get started. He’s pretty sure he’s just really lonely in this town.

__

The next day at work, Patrick’s fingers once more find the wooden edges of the card and he’s just about ready to make the call. As he presses the first three numbers on the keypad, he hears Ray call out “Patrick” to summon him to the adjacent office.

__

Customer B13 needs help. Some guy has an appointment to file incorporation papers for his business.

“David Rose. You bought the general store.” “Leased. Leased the general store, yeah.” “That’s a big deal.” “Is it?” “Yeah. It’s pretty big.”

And just like that, his new life starts. Everything suddenly seems lighter and brighter to Patrick, with so much he never even knew to want before. Hilarious voicemails, expressive eyebrows, the softest looking sweater and the shyest, sweetest smile on the most beautiful man he has ever seen. One filled-out business license application later and Patrick is tucking away Jake’s card in a desk drawer.

__

Several months pass and Patrick has plans to head over to the café and treat his business partner to a birthday dinner. He looks for some tissue paper and a gift bag for a present he needs to wrap. In his search through the desk, he comes across Jake’s card. He looks at it for a minute, flipping the thin piece of wood over a few times between his fingers, feeling its edges, feeling its weight, reading the words.

__

He tosses it away with a shrug. He has a date.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gained many amazing friends through this fandom and our shared passion for fanfic. I don't know what I'd do without their support - especially my accidental squad who has been there for me on a daily basis for longer than any of us ever expected. Distractivate and Barelypink are two of the most kickass writers we've got and they both inspire and support me despite my continual flailing about writing. 
> 
> Special thanks to my dear 8jodaiko, who freely offers her cheerleading and excellent editing advice, and then understands when I don't always take it.


	3. Like So Many Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hang in there. Night at Stevie's is next.

So. Dating David Rose is something new. And it’s something really, really, _really_ good.

With David, Patrick feels as if he is tasting a new, exotic fruit—something he has lived his life never even knowing existed. But now all of a sudden there’s this sweet juicy berry growing there, just on a perfect bush, right outside his window. And it turns out that life was waiting for Patrick to notice it was there, to choose, to take a bite. To just reach out and have the thing that could make him happy.

Kissing David Rose is a revelation. An unbelievably delicious revelation.

Patrick can’t get enough of David. The first night in the car, after the birthday dinner, after David finally realizes it’s a date, they kiss. A soft and dry whisper of a kiss, a promise. The next day in the store, when the misunderstanding about the dead body/sleepover is cleared up, they kiss more. “Now you listen…” David snaps, the words coming out way more harshly than he means them. But oh then. His smile, lips, laugh. Sigh. _Patrick_ pulls him in, kisses _David_ this time. Still so so soft, but wetter, sweeter. Mouths opening up, tongues gently searching and finding their way to get tangled up together. It’s too soon to say it feels like home. But. Patrick thinks it could be possible to melt into a kiss with David and never come out the other side.

He doesn’t want to come out the other side. He wants to live inside those kisses.

As business partners and friends, Patrick’s had months of learning the major and minor points of David. He’s studied his fearless embrace of fashion, heard about his 9-step skin care regimen (along with the emergency 5-step version), witnessed his micro-facial expressions and extensive face journeys, wondered about his unnecessarily complicated coffee order, and started to understand his necessarily complicated love for his family. He has observed David’s self-deprecation kick in when he needs it for self-protection and has glimpsed the very specific things that David lets himself be proud of. Patrick has also noticed the loyalty David has to those people he lets see him and who cherish him for all that he is. All Patrick wants now is to earn a place in that group.

The truth is that he’s been mesmerized by David from the first moment he held out the B13 ticket at Ray’s and looked to him for help. Patrick’s always been a sucker for being needed, being useful. But what he didn’t really expect was how much he’d need David in return.

Now, in these post-birthday kiss days, he’s learning all new parts to this man. What David smells like when Patrick nestles his face into his neck and inhales deeply. How David tastes when Patrick claims his mouth and feels the intoxicating sensation of his velvet lips and rough stubble, the way he surrenders completely to the press of Patrick’s mouth on his. And what it feels like when David’s heart beats faster under Patrick’s palm pressed to his chest.

Patrick can’t get enough of any part of David, anything of him, all of him. This problem is— the thing is, though… _privacy_. They don’t have any.

***

The back room at Rose Apothecary has a couch. It’s left over from the General Store and a bit old, a bit dusty; David crinkles his nose slightly whenever Patrick pulls him down and presses him into it. Still it has become a useful landing place this week to learn more about the angles and curves of their bodies and how they fit together while remaining mostly clothed. Patrick lives with Ray and very little privacy. David shares a room with Alexis. So, there’s no point in either of them hating that couch right now.

It’s Friday afternoon. The store is open but it’s been quiet and they somehow have found themselves in the back. Patrick is reclined on the couch. David is straddling Patrick, cupping his face while he moves his mouth gently over his. Patrick’s hands skitter up and down David’s back and sides, nails scratching softly the skin beneath his sweater and undershirt.

“Ding ding,” they hear from the front of the store.

“David,” Patrick pulls his mouth away to whisper his name and David immediately latches his lips and edges his teeth onto Patrick’s neck, nursing at the veins there. “Da—vid,” he repeats, moaning slightly.

“Fuck,” David whispers. “We can— um. Ignore that.”

“Ohh, I don’t think we ca-an,” Patrick mumbles as David worries the same spot on his neck with his front teeth. “Da-vid,” he repeats on an exhale.

“Okay, okay,” David says, standing up and adjusting his pants. “I’ll go and you—stay here. Or—I guess try to look less kissable. Or something.”

David goes out front to find Stevie, exactly whom he suspected it might be. Patrick, realizing he can’t just hide in the back, comes out as well as to greet her, to receive her teasing and ultimately to learn that there might actually be somewhere they can find some privacy tonight. Not Ray’s. Not the motel. Not the couch.

Saint Stevie, praises Patrick.


End file.
